


something wicked this way comes

by ayuminb



Series: Tales of Halloween [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: (Sort of.), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, F/M, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Modern Westeros, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-09 20:28:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16456670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayuminb/pseuds/ayuminb
Summary: "let's go trickandtreat"





	1. 59. “Did you seriously injure yourself carving a pumpkin?” (Jon/Sansa)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [riahchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/riahchan/pseuds/riahchan).

“Hey, no daydreaming!”

 

It's not like he particularly enjoyed this night.

 

As a kid? Definitely. Jon loved Halloween as any other kid for the opportunity to get free candy and eat it all later while staying up late. As a college student? Not so much, certainly not nearly as much as Theon insisted he should. But he's not the kind to party and hardly anyone would rather stay in and just fucking relax for a change.

 

So, here he is, roped into helping Robb and his siblings decorate their house for Halloween instead of prepping himself for yet another party.

 

“Hurry up with those pumpkins!”

 

Sansa, Robb's little sister but not his youngest sister, barked at them from across the backyard. It's probably stupid but it kinda makes him want to reply with a _‘sir, yes sir!’_ every time she scolds him— _them,_ she's snapping mostly at Robb and Arya, who seem to enjoy delaying their pumpkin carving duty.

 

“Who made _her_ Queen of the fucking world?” Arya grumbles under her breath, but resumes carving, then smirks. “Or is it Queen of Halloween?”

 

“Mom and Dad,” says Robb with a grin, then he turns to him. “Forgive her, she's not usually this…”

 

Arya chimes in, “Neurotic? Tyrannical?”

 

Robb gives her a mildly reproaching look before turning back to him. “Sansa is usually the sweetest person you'll ever meet but… the last few months have been difficult. She needs to wrestle some control back into her life.”

 

Which explains why, despite her complaining, Arya sticks around to be bossed around.

 

Jon grins. “It's ok, I don't mind. She's kinda inspiring.”

 

And he means that mostly as a joke.

 

Arya still grimaces in disgust. “Oh, gods, please tell me you're not crushing on her?”

 

“Yeah, Snow,” adds Robb, grinning yet there's a hint of steel to his tone. “I'm afraid I'll have to kill you if you are.”

 

So Jon scoffs, stands up and grabs his finished pumpkin, carrying it to a table across the backyard where all carved pumpkins would endure Sansa's scrutiny before getting the seal of approval. He hopes they didn't notice the pink of his ears and lack of denial, because yes… he might have let himself develop a small crush on her. On Sansa, who he'd met a few times before but hadn't really paid her much attention until very recently.

 

Before he goes to pick up another pumpkin, Jon notices Sansa is nowhere to be found. As inspiring as he thinks she is now, he takes the chance to skip into the house and head for the bathroom. She is a bit tyrannical. Jon's grin, however, meets a swift end when he stumbles upon Sansa herself in the bathroom, hastily trying to wrap up her bleeding hand.

 

“Did you seriously injure yourself carving a pumpkin?”

 

The fierce glare he gets in response is terrifying enough to make her step back, but he chin trembles, her eyes shine with unshed tears and Jon feels stupid for blurting out those words. Feels like he should be hunting down whomever or whatever made her upset while he apologizes profusely.

 

“Ah, sorry…”

 

Sansa shakes her head, and discards the ruined bandages too reach out for another. A split second later, Jon steps into the bathroom and sits on the floor at her feet, grabbing her injured hand.

 

“Pass me the alcohol,” he says, and then smiles at her. “This will hurt a little.”

 

She endures it, it stings but Sansa makes not a sound of discomfort. Jon cleans the cut, grabs new bandages, and begins wrapping them. He wants to ask what has her upset, but it would probably be too bold of him. They barely know each other, he’s no right meddling in her life.

 

“You probably think I'm being silly,” she says after a while.

 

“Not at all.” He hopes his smiles is sincere and betrays nothing of his budding crush. “You want to please your little brother, there's nothing wrong with that.”

 

Jon hadn't heard all the details when Robb approached him to ask for help, just that Sansa wanted to go all out decorating their house so it looked really spooky for Rickon. That everything had to be perfect and that their parents gave her full control of the situation.

 

“Which is really, really admiring, I mean… not, not everyone _would_ and…”

 

The air leaves him in a rush when she smiles at him then, sweet, lovely, _fucking beautiful_. But his heart nearly beats itself out of his chest when she leans closer to place a kiss on his cheek.

 

“Thank you, Jon.”


	2. 80. “I just found out my best friend and love of my life isn’t human and you’re criticizing me for being shocked?!” (Ned/Cat)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [bythunder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bythunder/pseuds/bythunder).

Ned stops, spins around, giving Robert a disbelieving glare.

 

“I just found out my best friend and love of my life isn’t human and you’re criticizing me for being shocked?!”

 

“Yes,” says his friend, and then, “Wait, what do you mean _best friend_ , I _am_ your best friend!”

 

 _“Robert,”_ Ned growls, menacingly.

 

Hands lifted in surrender is his only response. “I mean, what’s the big deal, really? You love her, she loves you. That should be enough.” Then comes the salacious grin. “Also, she’s a _nymph_ … You know what _that_ means. _Honka honka._ ”

 

 _“No,”_ says Ned, rubbing his temples. “She’s a _water nymph_ , more precisely, a _Potamides_ , who presides over rivers and—what _you’re_ thinking is a misconception, Robert. I’d appreciate it if you stopped thinking about Cat in such a manner.”

 

“Your sister has me on a dry spell, I can’t help it at this point,” the Baratheon seems to be unable to control himself, and Ned tries to hold onto that thought, knowing this fight with Lyanna has had him pretty down lately, however much he tries to joke about it. But then he grins, that same grin he always got when plotting mischief that, more often than not, Ned himself had to clean up after. “Though, I guess, with a water nymph all to yourself, you’ll never again have to endure another _dry spell—_ ”

 

Before he can really process it, his hand grabs the nearest sturdy object and throws it, luckily for Robert, missing the mark by a huge gap.

 

“Really Stark? Trying to _hurt_ me? You’ve wounded my soul, bro.”

 

“Just—stop talking, Robert.”

 

“Alright.”

 

He feels Robert watching him pace the living room, Ned can’t stop feeling jittery. He rubs his sweaty hands on his pants, pulls at his tangled hair, and wonders when was the last time he felt so lost. Can’t stop feeling wretched, as if _he’s_ committed the crime. _No crime, just… a very relevant secret._

 

“Did you run here as soon as you found out?”

 

Of course, Robert would not be able to keep quiet for long.

 

“I thought we agreed—”

 

“Because if you did, _boy,_ that’s an asshole move.”

 

“I…” Ned blinks, once, and then feels the blood drain from his face, slumping on the nearest chair. “Fuck.”

 

“Well, don’t just stay there!” His friend, in his unique, crass way, grabs him roughly by the arms and hauls him to his feet. “Go back to her! It’s bad enough that your sister banished me from her bed, no need to have Cat do the same to you!” A shove that nearly throws him to the floor is all Ned needs, really. “Also, you know, you’re better at apologizing than I am, so you can give me tips later!”

 

With a sheepish smile, Robert sends him off, and Ned doesn’t need to be told twice to hurry back home, hoping he’s not just screwed up the best thing that’s happened to him.

 

*****

 

She sits by the windows in their room.

 

There’s a book in her lap but she’s clearly given up reading it. Catelyn turns her head to face him, watches him intently, warily, and even through the dim light he can tell she’s been crying. Ned loathes to think she stayed here, alone, _crying,_ as he ran from a confession that was probably made in the name of full honesty before they really set to plan their future together.

 

With weary sigh, Ned bows his head. “I apologize, truly. There are no words to justify my despicable actions.”

 

“You are always so formal at times, Ned.”

 

Looking up, he finds her smiling at him, though weakly. Ned walks closer, debating a second before sitting by her side.

 

“I’m sorry, Cat, I… I overreacted.”

 

“Oh, no, your reaction was expected,” she says, sighs, “it was the leaving that shocked me.”

 

“I’m sorry.” And he truly is, but he’d heard her words, let the confession circle his head and his exceptic mind could not handle it. Ned had been angry, at first, for what he thought to be a lie, and then in denial, once the proof was given to him. “I’m sorry, I should’ve stayed.”

 

“It’s okay—”

 

“But it’s not—”

 

“You came back!” Catelyn strokes his cheek, smiles a bit more genuinely, and moves closer. “You came back, and that’s all that matters.”

 

“I still need… time to process it.”

 

“Of course, I never expected you to understand right away.”

 

Tentatively, he opens his arms, inviting her in and with a lovely smile, Catelyn snuggles into his chest. Ned drops a kiss to her head before he grins. “We ought to thank Robert, since he gave me the definite shove in the right direction. Even if he was rather crass about it.”

 

Catelyn tilts her head back, looking at him curious. “Do I want to know?”

 

“Not really,” he says, with a grimace.

 

She laughs. “We can invite him over for dinner… or help him with Lyanna.”

 

“That sounds reasonable.”

 

Gods know his friend would need all the help they can provide with Lyanna, stubborn as his sister is. However that is a thought for another day; now, now Ned will focus on the here and now.

 

“Are we good, then?”

 

Catelyn smiles, a wicked little twist of her lips before she kisses him. “Dearest Ned,” she says, softly as she leads them to the bed. “You’ll need to do plenty of _begging_ before we’re good.”

 

Now he smirks, lies her down on the bed and kisses her deeply, as his hands work on pulling off her pants.

 

_Begging._

  
He can do _begging._


	3. 13. “I thought you agreed I should wear this costume to the party tonight?” “Oh I agreed to you wearing it tonight, but I had no party in mind.” (Robert/Lyanna)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [bythunder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bythunder/pseuds/bythunder).

It should be simple enough.

 

Brandon’s Halloween parties are legendary, but ever since starting a relationship with Lyanna, he’d not been able to go. Well, they, _they_ hadn’t been able to go. It’s always one thing or the other; Renly’s last year as a _kid_ _(that was, really, just an excuse for her to get all the candy she wanted for free)_ , or the impromptu getaway to the Haunted Forest _(that, okay, was his excuse to get Lyanna all to himself for a whole weekend)_ , even dinner with the parents. Three years on a row, and he’d not thought it to be by design, until he brings it up to Lyanna.

 

And she pouts, looking away, and he has to flex his hands not to reach for her and smother her with kisses.

 

“Lya?”

 

“I didn’t think you’d want to go! It’s a costume party,” she says, a bit defensive and with a bit of a whine to her tone. “You don’t like costume parties.”

 

“Well, I’m not crazy about them, but _you_ like them.” Robert rubs her arms and gives her an enthusiastic smile. “I’ll dress up in silly costumes for you.”

 

Arms crossed, she pouts again. “Brandon will fill the place with women in all kinds of slutty costumes.”

 

“Okay?” Alright, he’s not the cleanest past when it came to women but, surely, Lyanna isn’t going to hold that against him now, is she? Especially after nearly three years of being in a serious relationship. “Lyanna, I’m not gonna – okay, maybe I am going to _look a little,_ but I’ll still be wondering how you’ll look—”

 

“I know that, idiot, I _trust_ you. But I don’t trust _them_ and I just know Brandon invited some your previous conquests and…” There’s the pout again, only now he doesn’t stop himself from pulling her into his arms, from trailing kisses up and down her neck. “ _Stop that_ – I don’t fancy spending the night fighting them off you.”

 

“Well, I’ll certainly enjoy spending the night watching you do just—uff!”

 

The laughter stumbles past his lips regardless of her well-placed elbow and the subsequent slaps to his shoulder. After a few minutes, he grabs her wrist and stops her assault to kiss her over and over and over until she’s laughing along with him.

 

“Alright, we’ll go to my brother’s party,” Lyanna concedes. “But you wear whatever costume I pick for you.”

 

“Deal.”

 

An agreement and soon they’ll be having fun in Brandon’s party; simple.

 

They go to buy their costumes—or _she_ does, Lyanna strolls through the store but nothing seems to meet her standards. Robert follows her steps quietly, looking in disinterest at the shelves, until something catches his attention. A costume he might be willing to wear; a Greek soldier. That should be good.

 

“How about this one, Lya?”

 

She stops and turns, picking up the bag he’s pointing at and inspecting it, she's about to discard it when she stops. Lyanna does a double take, turns to stare at him, eyes sweeping up and down his body, before she smirks. It makes him wonder, _that,_ but he says nothing and awaits her verdict.

 

He lifts an eyebrow. “Good?”

 

“Great. You’ll wear this on Saturday.”

 

There’s a predatory glint in her eyes, but he thinks nothing of it, because Lyanna tends to get ideas, _of the fun kind,_ at the oddest times and he’s learned to just roll with it. His wild, little she-wolf is full of never-ending surprises and he loves every second of it; especially when they end up tumbling onto their bed. So Robert thinks nothing of the costume until Saturday arrives, until he takes it out of the bag, and begins to wonder if there were missing parts to it.

 

Really, there had to be more to this costume than greaves and leather braces and what to him is just leather underwear. _Where’s that skirt-thing that's supposed to go with this?_ He grabs the red cape and wraps it around his shoulders, and like this, Robert thinks he recognizes it from a favorite movie of Lyanna’s. Running a hand down his bare chest, he frowns a little; it’s a testament of how much he loves Lyanna that he’s willing to prance into Brandon Stark’s place dressed like a slutty Spartan soldier.

 

“Well, fuck me.”

 

Robert turns and comes face to face with a smiling Lyanna, wearing a dress that barely owns its name; short and barely holding onto her shoulders and with leather straps circling her ribs and waist, baring her left thigh and fuck it all, but he’s inclined to obey her words.

 

“I will if you let me,” he says, smirks as he walks towards her. “I’ll be quick so we can get going, but…”

 

She walks gladly into his arms and stretches up to kiss his lips gently, once, twice, before urging him to bend down so she can reach his ear. “We’ll not be going anywhere, _Spartan._ ”

 

_Wait, what?_

 

Robert pulls back enough to look at her in confusion. “I thought you agreed I should wear this costume to the party tonight?”

 

“Oh I agreed to you wearing it tonight,” she says, a wicked grin pulling on her lips as her hands trail up and down his bare chest, “but I had no party in mind.”

 

Kicking the door closed, Lyanna advances on him like a predator, hands pushing until he walks back to the bedside. She sits on the edge, leans back on her hand and tilts her head to the side; dark, dark eyes setting his blood on fire. Robert’s half a mind to pounce on her, but feels like he should bide his time or—or wait for her command.

 

“Now,” she licks her lips, “on your knees, _Spartan._ ”


	4. 24. “Why are you so determined to see this ghost anyway?” (Robert/Lyanna)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [bythunder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bythunder/pseuds/bythunder).

**[989 AC]**

 

Robert watches her drop a box in the middle of his room, watches her jump onto his bed to close the curtains, jumps down, then kneels by the box and starts pulling out candles, a book, matches and… a ouija board. Yup, she is determined. He bites down his laughter as he leans on the threshold.

 

“Lya—”

 

“Come in and close the door!”

 

He does as requested. “Why are you so determined to see this ghost anyway?”

 

Lyanna pushes the box aside, sets the ouija board on the floor, and begins arranging the candles in a circle.

 

“Lya.”

 

She stops, scowls at him, and throws him the book, which he catches. “I just want to meet my ancestor, is all. Come sit, I need help for this.”

 

Robert hums and opens the book, looking for a title as there’s none on the cover. He plops down onto the ground next to her, turning pages until he came across a dog-eared page about halfway into the book.

 

“Robert’s Rebellion?” He smirks, waving the open book in her face. “Love me that much you had to look up my valiant ancestor? Lemme tell you, my parents say I look just like him.” Robert reaches out and pulls at a lock of hair until he has her attention, then smirks and puffs out his chest. “Tall and broad and muscled, strong and fearless. A great warrior, felling enemies with a single swing of his great warhammer…! And making ladies drop her panties by the dozen.”

 

Lyanna bites her bottom lip but the smile still manages to break through. “Muscled like a maiden’s fantasy, was he? Sitting his horse like a horned god?”

 

“Yup!”

 

“And I suppose he was as modest as you are,” she says, rolling her eyes before turning to the ouija board. Her smile drops and she sighs, a hint of anger glinting in her eyes. “No, I was… looking up something else. Do you know the history behind it?”

 

“My ancestor’s rebellion? Vaguely,” he replies, rubbing his chin. “Some men were burnt alive, others strangled… the Mad King asked for some lords’ heads and… that’s it?”

 

She takes the book from his hand and swats his arm with it, which makes him laugh. “No. Didn’t you pay attention at school?”

 

“Lya,” he drawls, placing a hand on her bare thigh and  _ God bless _ this girl’s high resistance to cool weather that she would wear short shorts in autumn here in King’s Landing. “I chose to pursue a more…” Up,  _ up _ his hand goes. “… _ physically  _ demanding path in high school.”

 

“Ah, yes, I know all about your teenage sexual escapades.” She slaps his hand away and swats his arm once more for good measure. “The history behind that Rebellion… Seems  _ my _ ancestor ran away with the Mad King’s son,” Lyanna says with a frown. “That’s what triggered the events that caused the Rebellion. It was… a chain of events, really, but…”

 

“So?”

 

Lyanna hands him the book back and sets to finish what she’d started. “So, I will summon her and ask  _ what _ in the seven  _ fucking _ hells was she thinking to run away with a gormless git like—”

 

Robert reads over the pages, skimming over most of it. “How’d you know she ran away?”

 

“Professor Targaryen.” The growl carries all the venom she has in her for the man, and none of the wonder that’d been there during her first year in college. “He gave me that book, said I should educate myself on my ancestry.”

 

He blinks, taps his thumbs over the pages, and stretched the muscles of his neck. “Did he make a pass at you?”

 

He really has no right to be jealous of the man; Rhaegar Targaryen is the very stereotype of the hot history teacher most girls fall for, so her crush on him was understandable. Lyanna had been not a  _ blip _ in Robert’s radar back then, so he’d missed the near scandal and what Brandon calls the most glorious moment of his little sister’s young life. Of all the things he regrets by not paying attention to Lyanna sooner, it’s the fact that he had not been there to watch her break Rhaegar’s perfect nose he laments the most.  _ Hells, _ he’d not even heard the story until about half a year ago, some eight months into their relationship, and about a year after the actual incident.

 

“No, he wouldn’t risk it.” Lyanna sighs and taps her fingers over the ouija board. “But he seems to be petty enough to go out of his way to prove I made  _ a mistake, _ that he was right.”

 

“Right about what?”

 

She lifts her hand and points at the book. “About how we were destined to be together,  _ our love dates back over seven hundred years, Miss Stark. _ ”

 

Well that makes him bristle, and he growls. “He said that?”

 

“The day I broke his nose. Today he said the book was to help me with my end-of-term project.”

 

Lyanna sits glaring at the board and he takes the opportunity to read once again through the pages attentively.

 

“Ok, help me—”

 

“Lyanna, seems to me  _ Professor _ Targaryen lied,” he says, cutting her sentence short, and hands her the book on the pages he was reading over. “Look, there's no mention of anything happening willingly.  In fact, it's sounds more like there was a kidnapping.  _ ‘Prince Rhaegar fell upon Lady Lyanna with armed guards while she was en route to attend her brother's wedding’ _ – it's right there, it doesn't sound like she went willingly.”

 

Lyanna frowns at it, thoughtfully. “Still, let's try summoning her. Just to be sure—”

 

“Just to be sure, yeah. Or… we can forget about ghosts and…” Robert grabs the book and tosses it away, kicking the ouija board and the candles and everything else to the side, so he can push her onto the ground with a wicked grin. “And work on you worshipping  _ this  _ horned god, yeah?”

 

“You're no mighty conqueror from the legends, Robert Baratheon.” Still she smirks and is quick to invert their positions. “But I'll gladly break  _ this  _ horned god and have him begging for me in no time at all.”

 

“Bring it on, Stark.”


	5. 53. “Don’t go out there. Especially once the sun goes down.” “Why not?” “You don’t wanna know.” (Robert/Lyanna)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [bythunder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bythunder/pseuds/bythunder).

His heart beats an erratic rhythm in his chest, his blood rushes through his veins, sweats drips down the side of his face and gathers in his back; exhausted, he’s truly exhausted.

 

Still, Robert runs.

 

*****

 

He’d let everyone believe his trip North was for the _women._ And while partly true, he thinks as he flashes a cocky smile at the barmaid serving his drinks, he’s also here for the adventure. The kind of adventure he’d not find below The Neck and that has nothing to do with women. The kind spoken of in legends, stories Grandma Rhaelle used to tell him when he was a child.

 

The kind of adventure only found in the legendary Wolfswood.

 

“So, Dacey,” he says, smirking at her, “what can a southron lad like me do here to find _adventure._ ”

 

“You mean other than charming your way into a girl's panties?”

 

That gets an explosive laugh out of him. “Yes, other than that.”

 

Dacey hums, leans on her elbows as she considers his question. “The Wall. You can see the ice cells, visit the Haunted Forest nearby.” She smirks. “Some say, if you're lucky, you might even come across a White Walker.”

 

“Tempting offer, though knowing the Wall is a sausage fest makes me reconsider.” He scrunches up his nose. “Also, the cold.”

 

“Southron lad cannot handle a northern autumn?”

 

“Feels like bloody winter to me,” he grumbles.

 

Dacey laughs, but before she can say more the doors to the pub open suddenly, halting all conversation within for a split second. Robert turns just as the crowd resumes their chatter, blinks, and watches as the prettiest girl he's seen meander through tables and townsfolk, greeting all those in her path and those further away.

 

Robert watches her intently, letting his eyes rove over her slight frame; even though her clothes isn't exactly form-fitting, he can appreciate her. A chest that's on the smaller side but still eye-catching, a slim waist and, what he likes the most, an amazing pair of legs. She seems like the sporty type, Robert grins at that.

 

“What’ll you have, Lya?”

 

His eyes lock on her face, taking in the curve of her jaw, the shape of her nose. Her hair is a common enough dark brown though her eyes – he's never seen such a captivating color.

 

“The usual.” It takes Robert a moment to realize the girl is looking at him, a sort of curious wonder lurking in her eyes. “Can you wrap it up, Dacey? I can't stay long today.”

 

He misses Dacey’s secretive smile, in lieu of meeting this tempting stranger's piercing stare. Robert smirks at her before grabbing his beer and taking a swing of the bottle. And something, he feels something brimming—a bag is suddenly placed in between them, breaking their starting contest.

 

“There you go, Lya. Say hello to those cute brothers of yours.”

 

Her _laugh,_ wow.

 

“Only one of them qualifies as cute, but I will.” She places the money on the counter and picks the bag. “See you tomorrow, Dacey!”

 

“Bye, doll!”

 

Again, Robert turns to watch her, following her steps attentively. _She's got a great ass,_ he thinks, waits till _Lya_ is out of sight before turning back to the counter.

 

Dacey shakes her head. “Don't even think it.”

 

“Oh? Is _Lya_ taken?”

 

He likes the way her name rolls off his tongue.

 

“No, but she's from a very _influential_ family here in the North, and has three very overprotective brothers.”

 

Robert hums in contemplation, flashing the lovely Dacey another charming smile. “I think I'll risk it. She looks like she's worth it,” he says. _Must be a Stark of Winterfell,_ he thinks, as that's the most influential family from the North that he can think of. But Robert doesn't care for her family's reputation, he simply wants a taste of the northern beauty. “Definitely worth it.”

 

“Careful, champ,” though her smile is wide, there’s a hint of a warning to her words, “you're treading on thin ice there.”

 

He dismisses that, though. “So Dacey, _lovely_ Dacey. What can you tell me about the Wolfswood?”

 

Dacey takes the empty beer bottle and offers him another, but he declines, and seeing as no one else calls for her, she begins cleaning the counter. “It belongs to the Starks.”

 

“What else?”

 

“Don’t go out there,” comes the warning, though not from Dacey, no. Old Bear, he’s heard the people call him, though Dacey calls him Uncle Jeor; the man is imposing despite his apparent age. “Especially once the sun goes down.”

 

If Stannis were here, he’d be fuming and berating him, calling him a reckless fool and whatnot. But Stannis isn’t here, and Robert has never been one to take a warning quietly, not without investigating himself.

 

So he says, a bit of a challenge in his voice. “Why not?”

 

The old man is unimpressed, and pins him with a severe glare. “You don’t wanna know.”

 

Then he walks away, barking orders as he walks into the back of the pub.

 

Dacey leans closer to flick his forehead. “Uncle is right, you know.”

 

“Really? No venturing into the woods past sundown? What – the big bad wolf is gonna get me?”

 

There’s no humor in her eyes when she replies, “yes.”

 

*****

 

He feels his legs begin to cramp, feels his side hurting, can’t barely breathe but Robert keep running.

 

The beasts— _big bad wolf, he thinks in near hysterics, more like big murderous pack of wolves!_ —chase him relentlessly, three, no, four of  them, getting dangerously close on several occasions before he’s forced to dive for the ground or take a sharp turn with the help of a tree. Faster and tireless, Robert can’t even imagine how it is he’s not being knocked over and mauled by now. Fucking hells, he’s a fast runner but these _animals…_ got him surrounded several times, ready to pounce when he’s given a opening and he’s off, dashing through the woods once more.

 

 _It’s a game,_ comes the thought, collapsing against a big oak tree, pushing down the hysterical laughter bubbling beneath the surface. _It’s a bloody game for them._ A hunt. Robert falls to his knees and presses his hand to his side, gasping for breath, thinking he ought to keep an eye out for those fucking wolves. He’s being mercilessly hunted, and anytime now, he’s gonna be caught, and he’ll be – he’ll be…

 

Robert laughs weakly, gasping as he feels a sharp pain running up his side. “Should’ve listened to the old man.”

 

Dacey’s uncle had been right. _So fucking right._ Should’ve stayed in the pub, or in the Inn, anywhere was preferable to _this. I really didn't want to to know,_ he laughs again, breathless, stomping down the panic trying to set in. _Hells, I only wanted a chance to hit on the Stark girl._

 

Worthy of many things, but his fucking life?

 

“Gotta get out of here…”

 

The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, a chill runs down his spine. Robert swallows and slowly, slowly, turns to look over his shoulder. A twig snaps, the sound echoing around the silent forest and there it is, the biggest fucking wolf of the pack chasing him, prowling. It growls menacingly, advancing slowly, Robert shifts and is ready to sprint—the wolf pounces.

 

*****

 

The wolf pounces.

 

His scream gets stuck in his throat, his sight whites out from the pain – wrapping his free arm around the large neck, he keeps the beast from yanking back his head and possibly tearing off his arm. He can’t prevent the shout from escaping when he feels the fangs sinking deeper, his vision whites out again, only longer, his world spins before it’s rocked violently as he falls back against the roots of the big oak tree.

 

Robert blinks slowly, feels sluggish as he grips his shoulder, feels it wet and sticky and warm with blood. There’s howling in the distance, he shudders, looks up, and catches sight of the big wolf wrestling with a smaller one.

 

_Fighting for their food, huh?_

 

He shakes his head hard, stands up but freezes upon hearing a growl right behind him, _much too damn close._ Turns and backs up slowly; it’s the smaller wolf, walking closer, sniffing the air and— _I’m shaking,_ Robert thinks, sways, before gripping his shoulder tightly and hoping that the spike of pain will keep him alert enough, _I need to stop the bleeding, or…_ Or he’ll be going into shock soon.

 

His focus narrows down suddenly on the eyes of his predator; distantly, he feels a tug in the back of his mind, something, _something_ trying to get his attention. The wolf snaps its head to the side, baring its fangs and growling and, a moment later, lunging. Robert doesn’t stay to see why.

 

He runs.

 

Not looking back. Robert grips his shoulder, fingers digging into the wound to keep his mind from fogging up, and runs, runs, _runs._ Until finally, there’s hope – _salvation._ Not the town but a tower; abandoned, broken, but with thick walls that are high enough to stop the beasts from going in if he can find a way to lock the door.

 

“Fuck!” Robert shouts, stumbling inside and falling onto his injured shoulder; he stands up on shaky legs and rushes to push the door closed, lamenting the lack of any kind of lock. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck._ ”

 

No heavy table or chair or anything to block entrance from outside. _Should’ve stayed in the fucking town._ By then, he sees the stairs, half of it crumbled; a split decision is all he needs, and with a bit of effort, a landing that nearly knocks him unconscious, he manages to reach the upper part of the tower. His phone had been lost somewhere at the start of this all, when the biggest wolf knocked him down a hill, but he’s got his watch, and it’s enough for him to know it’s nowhere near dawn. _Should’ve turned tail and gone back the moment I saw her lurking in the shade by the bus stop._

 

This has got to be, the most idiotic thing he’s done chasing a girl.

 

 _No use whining about it now._ He groans, leans on the wall by the window, and lets himself fall to the floor. His shoulder still bleeds and the pain’s gotten worse, he should wrap the wound somehow, but he just wants to close his eyes and rest for a little while. _Just a moment, lemme close my eyes for only a moment._

 

Though, it’s more than a moment.

 

Robert startles awake, pain seering his shoulder, it makes him shout.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

It’s a whisper, but he hears it clearly enough; through the foggy haze in his mind, from sleep and the sudden pain, he sees her.

 

_Lya._

 

“Keep still for a moment,” she says again, voice washing over him like a balm though he wishes to cry out very much when she begins pulling off his jacket. “I’ll have to tear a piece of it off, I need to wrap up your shoulder.”

 

“Right. It’s fine.”

 

He closes his eyes and rests his head on the wall, grinds his teeth when he feels her begin twisting and pulling the cloth she’d ripped from his jacket around his shoulder.

 

“I’m sorry,” she says again, softly as she pulls back.

 

Robert grins weakly, still feeling a little out of it, and tries to tell her it isn’t her fault. Instead, he says, “ _Lya,”_ and lifts his bloody hand to stroke her cheek gently. “‘Tis not your fault,” he manages after a while. “I’m Robert. Nice to meet you.”

 

“Robert,” his name rolls nicely off her tongue; she repeats it a few more times before setting her eyes on him. “Robert, it’s nice to really meet you.”

 

“Right, the pub.” He takes a deep breath, and catches her lean forward, _closer,_ so suddenly he thinks she’s falling onto him and grabs her waist to steady her. “You okay?” Belatedly, he realizes where they are, and he tries to sit up straighter, squinting his eyes to look her over better; he finds no apparent injuries, but if she’s here, then it means she also seeked refuge in this dilapidated tower. “Are you hurt? Are you… were you hiding from the wolves?”

 

Her gaze snaps up, meets his blue eyes intently. Her hands are on his chest, and slowly, they move to rest more comfortably; one on his uninjured shoulder and the other above his beating heart.

 

“No, I…”

 

“I saw you at the bus stop, then you kinda disappeared into the woods and I thought…”

 

He thought to follow and charm his way into her pants, have a little _adventure_ with her in the woods; he’s not gonna lie to himself, but after having her helping him like this, Robert feels like an asshole for having thought that at all.

 

“I know.” There she is again, Lya leans in, though now her nose rubs his cheek and then—she takes a deep breath, something like a groan rumbles in her chest. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this…” Robert shakes his head but stops upon feeling her lips graze his neck, again, she takes a deep breath. _Is she…?_ “You smell good, Robert.”

 

Their eyes meet, and there’s the tug in the back of his mind. Again. _Grey eyes._ He's never seen such a captivating color of—

 

Suddenly, she’s pulling back, jumping away surprisingly fast. Robert can't think of reacting, not when his mind is going a mile a second. _Grey eyes._ Lya steps back, moving slowly now, graciously, motions precise and— _and lethal._

 

“You smell too good,” she says, voice rough, “the wolf's been howling for you. From the moment you arrived… I'm sorry, I tried to keep it a secret from my brothers.”

 

_Those grey eyes…_

 

“But I couldn't help myself.”

 

The moonlight filters through the window, Lya walks into it—the air leaves him in a rush. _Oh,_ he thinks, watching her body twitch and shift _and flow._ Grandma Rhaelle’s tales come to him then, about the beasts that lurk in the dark, in the moonlight. _Oh._

 

In the distance, Robert hears the pack howling.

 

She— _the Stark girl, she's, she_ —lands on a crouch in front of him. A growl rumbling low in her chest, hair shifting to the cold breeze, she stands to her full height.

 

_Those grey eyes belong to…_

 

“Lya…?”

 

_…a she-wolf._


	6. 29. “That wasn’t there before.” (Robb/Jeyne)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [bythunder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bythunder/pseuds/bythunder).

Visiting the Twins is his idea.

 

Robb has always been daring, and usually, Jeyne would go along with it. But now she just… can't shake off the feeling of something happening. Something they better avoid, but there’s no talking her boyfriend out of this.

 

“It’ll be fun!”

 

And _how_ can she deny him when he smiles at her like that? When he pulls her close and kisses her until they’re both breathless, when he promises unspeakable delights once they’re back in their room at the inn? She can’t.

 

Jeyne can’t, and frankly, she won’t even try now.

 

But as they walk through the gloomy hallway, not even the impossibly hot breeze stops Jeyne from shivering and moving closer to Robb, to which he grins and draps an arm around her shoulder. They’re part of a small tourist group visiting the place, and the tour guide in charge is dull as all seven hells. So much so, that, just as she’d thought, Robb makes them lags behind until they manage to slip away unnoticed.

 

“Now we’re free to explore the castle!”

 

He’s so excited about it, she can’t muster the nerve to tell him they should really catch up.

 

Instead, she smiles. “All the really fun places?”

 

“Exactly!”

 

Though it’s only one place he’s interested in, the one room that’s out of bounds: the grand hall. It’s never been clear why it’s off limits, and the lack of a solid reason has always intrigued Robb. Jeyne feels different; she can’t explain it, but whatever it is, she feels it better to leave it alone.

 

They walk slowly through halls and winding stairs, searching for this room, as it’s not detailed in the map. Whatever dread she feels building in her gut is quickly eroded when Robb would pull her into an alcove and engages her into more pleasant activities that walking aimlessly and worrying endlessly. It’s so easy to lose herself in his kisses and wandering hands, so easy to reciprocate, that it’s actually a shock when she pulls back abruptly.

 

They’re panting, breathless, Robb looks eager to resume their kissing but—

 

“Jeyne?”

 

“Can’t you hear it?”

 

It’s like a distant hum, from far, far away, but definitely there and growing stronger. _Music,_ she realizes, disentagles herself from his embrace despite protests and walks cautiously a few steps down the hall.

 

Robb sighs, and moves to stand by her side. “Hear what?”

 

She’s pointing at the end of the hall before she can’t fully grasp the meaning of it. “Music.”

 

He frowns, looks in that direction, and then grins. “Maybe there are more stragglers like us looking for this hidden hall?”

 

“Can you hear it now?”

 

But Robb simply grabs her hand and hurries to reach the end of the hallway. The closer they get, the louder the music, and soon, Jeyne can also hear singing – can’t understand the words but those are definitely the sounds of men and women singing. Laughter and cheers and suddenly suddenly, apprehension hits her with a vengeance. She feels a chill run down her spine, feels the brush of an arm by her side. Jeyne looks over her shoulder and blinks— _is that…?_

 

“Here it is!”

 

Her attention is drawn onto a pair of big wooden doors.

 

Robb practically vibrates with anticipation. “This must be it.”

 

“Are they locked?”

 

She hopes that’s the case, because not even gripping her boyfriend’s arm tightly does the dread dissipate now. Her head snaps to the side quickly, feeling as if someone rushed by her side, almost knocking her over, and there, at the end of the hall—

 

Jeyne blinks.

 

And the nearly loses her balance when Robb tugs her forward; she collides against his side among protests and his sheepish grin. The doors aren’t fully open, chained from inside as they are and that, _that_ is weird. Another tug on her hand, and she’s slipping through the gap, ducking under the heavy chains, after her excited boyfriend.

 

She inhales sharply, reels back as the smell of blood hits her hard on the face. Her eyes tear up and she finds herself blinking repeatedly to clear her sight—

 

And then she freezes.

 

Then she blinks.

 

“Love, what is it?”

 

The horrific image dissolves as if made of smoke and, suddenly, Robb is there, in front of her, holding her arms gently and looking at her in worry.

 

“Jeyne, you’re shaking.”

 

 _Am I?_ She shakes her head, fists her hands over his shirt and pulls, dread clawing at her insides. “We need to leave.” The air behinds him seems to coil, she blinks, the empty hall fills with people once more— _laughing and eating and drinking, music bouncing off the stonewalls_ —she squeezes her eyes shut against what she knows will come. _“Robb, we have to leave.”_

 

The music changes and the blood-chilling screams press down on her from all sides, the smell of blood makes her sway and Jeyne can’t, can’t, _can’t_ stop the feeling of her heart _breaking._

 

“Love, what is it?” Robb pulls her closer, and she doesn’t resist but keeps saying they need to leave, this is not the time for reassurances. “Jeyne…” But then his voice trails off, curious, and her eyes open to find him looking past her shoulder with a confused tilt of the head. “That wasn’t there before.”

 

She turns. She blinks.

 

She freezes.

 

The wolf head shimmers, jerks up and pins sightless eyes on them. It raises and advances and she feels Robb grips her arm and pull her away, cursing as he pushes her behind him. There’s a body under it; _that’s Robb’s body under it._

 

A chunk of bloody flesh splatters on the ground.

 

Jeyne screams.


	7. 60. “There are some things about Halloween you don’t understand.” (Ned/Cat)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [bythunder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bythunder/pseuds/bythunder).

It isn’t something Catelyn thought she’d have to deal with _Ned_.

 

 _Brandon_ – now Brandon had been another story. Brandon had began this disappearing acts early on in their relationship, but he’d never given her an excuse as lame as this one. Brandon had simply kissed her, enticing, and said he had family stuff to take care of. A simple excuse that she took without doubt, without prying, because their relationship had been fairly new then. Catelyn only began to suspect once the wonder and excitement that Brandon ignited in her began to fade into comfort and routine.

 

That'd been a rude wake up call.

 

Catelyn still felt the sting of what she'd discovered. Still felt the rage and the urge to _hurt_ from back then.

 

Yet she never thought she'd feel all that with Ned. _Not Ned._ The one Stark that everyone promised is as far removed from Brandon as it can get. _Not my Ned._

 

However, here they are.

 

“Cat…”

 

She shakes her head, eyes squeezing shut. “You could've…” At a loss of words, she laughs. “You could've said it is simply a family tradition, but – _I thought you were better than Brandon.”_

 

A part of her wants to take those words back, as soon as she whispers them, _gods,_ but she never meant to hurt him. _But I'm not going to simply let him—_

 

“It is because I know how he…” The words pain him, an eternal battle going on inside him as he tries to balance his love for her and his brother. “I simply aim to tell you the truth.”

 

“That it is _necessary_ to stay locked in your house so no one is in danger?” Her eyes water, bites her lips because _he's still lying._ “Ned…”

 

“There are some things about Halloween you don’t understand,” he says, solemnly.

 

“Explain it, then.”

 

Ned shudders, suddenly, presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and takes deep breaths, almost as if in pain. Catelyn doesn't understand what is happening, she does like it, doesn't like to see him in pain anymore than she likes knowing he's keeping secrets from her.

 

They promised to never keep secrets from each other.

 

With a violent shake, he straightens up, eyes darkening a touch, and he walks to the door. “I must go.”

 

It is, maybe, a childish move, but Catelyn moves to stand before the door to prevent this escape.

 

Ned growls. _He actually growls._ “Catelyn…”

 

That's when she notices his labored breath, the shaking that's not stopped, the way his eyes keep darkening and the low rumbling deep in his chest. As an afterthought, Catelyn notices her room darkening rapidly. Ned groans, doubles over, hand gripping his chest.

 

Dusk falls.

 

Catelyn gasps—

 

And there, right before her eyes, she watches the form of her beloved shimmer and stretch and bend and rip his clothes at the seams. Looming over her, angry and dangerous, growling menacingly – a wolf.

 

_Ned…?_

 

—she screams.


End file.
